


In Death, Sacrifice

by Naudiz



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Blood Mage Cousland, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Multiple Wardens, Sexual Content Implied, The Calling, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naudiz/pseuds/Naudiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elyssa Cousland's quest for a cure of the Taint failed. After twenty-five years of service, she hears the Calling and ventures into the Deep Roads. But even though it's not his time yet, Alistair is not willing to let her go alone ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Death, Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a prompt over at the Dragon Age Kink Meme, and while I could not fill the exact requirements (damn my love for female Wardens!), I still like the story enough to make it my first post here on A03 (excluding the first try for a multi-chapter story that I decided to not continue). I hope you like it!

»You're sure you want to do that?«, the leader of the dwarven guards asked with a troubled expression on his bearded face.  
  
Elyssa nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, only curling at the corners where her sarcasm broke through. It was one of the things Alistair had never understood, not even after all those years at her side – how there was always mocking laughter in her demeanour, even in the face of certain death. He was both enamoured and terrified by it.  
  
The guards looked at each other, unsure what to do. Then, one of them nodded firmly, and their phalanx parted, armors and weapons clanking with a sense of finality that made Alistair shiver.  
  
»May the Ancestors watch over you«, mumbled one of the guards as Elyssa pushed past him without saying a word. Her silence was maybe the most terrifying thing about this whole affair; how she accepted her fate unflinching, the only evidence of fear being the way her face seemed carved from stone.  
  
She strode down the steps to the Deep Roads with grim determination, her delicate hands firmly gripping her dragonthorn staff. Power radiated from her, encasing her body like a halo, though it was no longer a searing brightness to Alistair's Templar senses, but a dull darkness ready to swallow him.  
  
_Or her_ , he thought bitterly.  
  
They walked in silence for a while, her leather boots almost making no sound on the worn-out stone while his heavy armor, the one he had inherited from Cailan, clanked loudly with every step. In the beginning of their relationship, she would have mocked him for that. But now, she merely ignored it, her eyes firmly set on the darkness that awaited them at the end of the staircase.  
  
Alistair looked at her profile, dimly lit by the ghost light she had summoned into her right hand. Even after all these years, she was still beautiful, with her sharp cheekbones, her straight nose and narrow lips and eyes that seemed too big for her delicate face. A scar marred her left cheek where a Genlock axe had hit her during the Blight, another one ran along her jaw down to her neck, and he knew there were even more all over her body, silent reminders of the various battles she'd fought and won. He had committed every single on to his memory, tracing them with tongue, kissing them until her giggles turned into small moans and she buried her slender fingers in his hair, begging him to come closer, to give her _more_...  
  
He shook his head to chase the memory of her touch away - how she placed urgent kisses on his feverish lips, how she cried his name when she climaxed, her fingers digging into his back and her whole body trembling against him in a most delicious manner, making him fall for her even harder every time.  
  
»You're blushing«, Elyssa observed matter-of-factly.  
  
Alistair snapped from his reverie, her cries of pleasure still echoing in a far corner of his mind. »Sorry. I was -«  
  
»Thinking of the old times. I know.« Her lips curved into a small, pained smile that spoke of all the ache and sadness that raged within her, but never made it to the surface, countered by her sarcasm and the need to stay focused, to stay unbroken. He know this smile all too well. She had worn it when she realized Loghain betrayed the King; when they found Cailan's corpse in Ostagar, nailed to a cross by Darkspawn; and when Brigid decided to take the final blow for her when they fought the Archdemon, giving her life so that her best friends could have a happy end.

He wonders if it was that what Brigid had in mind and chuckles darkly to himself. Yes, it would fit his dead friend's humour well.  
  
»Do you think of it, too? Of the old times, I mean?« His voice sounded small here in the near-darkness, where the silence of the Deep Roads was an almost palpable presence.  
  
Elyssa paused, turning so that she could look him in the eye. She was only a few inches smaller than him, still slender and delicate, but in a troubling way; her body seemed drained, hollowed out, veins showing through her too-pale skin, dark spots replacing the freckles and moles that had made her skin a map that he spent years to memorize.  
  
»Of course I do«, she said. Even her voice sounded different now. It was not the familiar silver-tongued poem anymore, but a dark singsong, not unlike the one Hespith had chanted so many years ago. Even though he did not want to, he shivered.  
  
Her sad smile dwindled, smoothening the wrinkles around her mouth, making the dark spots on her face even more prominent. »You are afraid of me. Let me change that.«  
  
She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his chest and leaning in for a kiss. Her breath smelled foul, like flesh decaying; _Maker_ , for all he knew, she might be decaying on the inside, slowly transformed into the very thing they had fought all their lives.  
  
A strong urge to step back, to shove her away rose within him. But he stood firm against it, crushing her to his chest as if she could dissolve into black smoke any moment. Brushing back a strand of honey-coloured hair, his hands cupped her face, his lips meeting hers in a feverish rush. It was all he could do to stop himself from moaning as she swirled her tongue around his, her fingers snaking into the hair at his neck to draw him closer to her, deepening the kiss.  
  
Then, suddenly, she broke free, her eyes darkening with what he immediately recognized as regret. She stepped back with that sad smile curling her lips again, reaching for her staff that had clattered to the ground unnoticed.  
  
»I'm sorry, Alistair«, she said in a grave voice. »I lost control. It will not happen again.«  
  
»But I want it to happen again.« He blurted that protest out before he could stop himself, blushing immediatly at his foolishness. They would never be intimate again.  
  
_Never._ The thought felt as if his heart was torn from his chest. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he fought them; she needed his strength now, more than ever before.  
  
Turning from him, Elyssa resumed her descend, the ghost light casting strange shadows on the wall. He followed her slowly, trying to forget the ache that spread through his body, a dull tingle where her fingers had touched him.  
  
They reached the landing of the staircase a few minutes later, stepping into the light of a thousand flickering torches. The Deep Roads spread before them, great hallways better suited for giants than for dwarves. Statues of long-dead paragons stood guard, dead stone eyes watching them solemnly.  
  
And at the far end of the tunnel, a band of Darkspawn.  
  
Their presence hit Alistair like a fist in the stomach, assaulting his mind with flashbacks of Ostagar and the final battle on top of Fort Drakon. Even after almost twenty-five years serving as a Grey Warden, the deformity of Darkspawn made him physically sick, and the memory of Corypheus controlling the Orlesian Wardens at Adamant worsened it to the point that he wanted to scratch his own eyes out in terror.  
  
But he drew his sword nonetheless. It was then that the Darkspawn noticed them, the Genlocks hooting in anticipation and the Hurlocks brandishing their weapons. They started moving, a sprawling black mass ready to swallow everything in its path. Alistair spotted an Ogre behind the front lines, laughing cruelly at the sight of the little humans who intended to stand up against it. The earth shook under their feet as the beast broke into a sprint, head lowered to use its horns as a battering ram.  
  
»Join us, brothers and sisters«, Elyssa suddenly spoke up, her expression grim as she drew a dagger, slashing a great gash into her forearm that let the blood well up like juice from a too-ripe fruit.  
  
»Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.«  
  
The dagger fell to the ground, the clatter drowned by the noise of the Darkspawn and the fireball that suddenly exploded from Elyssa's fingers, reducing several Genlocks at once to ashes.  
  
»Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn.«  
  
The Ogre was close now, its laughter louder than the blood that rushed in Alistair's ears. He readied himself, taking his shield from his back and raising it just in time to ward off the first volley of arrows. Beside him, Elyssa launched another spell, this time a sheet of ice that spread across the ground before them, slowing down the Ogre's advance.  
  
»And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you. In war, victory -«  
  
»For the Grey Wardens!«, Alistair screamed at the top of his lungs, images of Duncan and Cailan and all the other good men that died at Ostagar flashing past his mind's eye. He took of running, battering into the first band of Hurlocks to reach them, shoving one away with his shield and stabbing the other in the stomach.  
  
»In peace, vigilance«, Elyssa said solemnly, the dagger back in her hands and her other forearm cut open, too, blood gashing from the wounds and staining the stone beneath her a dark shade of crimson.  
  
The Ogre was suddenly beside Alistair, great fists aiming for his head. He ducked under the blow, warding off a Hurlock blade in the same movement. An arrow hurtled by, missing his face only by a hair's breadth, while the others stuck into the stone around him, turning it into treacherous ground.  
  
Another fireball flashed past him, incinerating the next wave of Hurlocks and taking the Ogre squarely in the chest. It did not stop the creature, though; it grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him effortlessly into the air and crushing him. All breath was driven from his lungs; he found himself gasping for air, trying to wriggle free from the Ogre's grip but failing miserably. He felt himself blacking out, his mind slipping away like the sword from his fingers.  
  
Then, suddenly, he was tossed to the ground, knocked flat on his back by the force of the impact. The pain drove tears into his eyes, obscuring his view. But he sensed the magic around him, heard the deafening scream of the Ogre as it was hit by another spell. The Genlocks hooted, bloodlust only spurred further by the death of their companions.  
  
Alistair worked himself up to one knee, searching franctically for Elyssa. He found her in front of the Ogre, slashing at its head with the blade of her staff, holding it down.  
  
» _No_!«, Alistair cried, watching helplessly while Elyssa was hit by an arrow, and another, then brought to her knees by a Hurlock. Then, the Darkspawn were on her, drowning her petite body under their force.  
  
He forced himself to his feet, picking up his sword and shield.  »In death, sacrifice!«, he whispered solemnly.  
  
The horde closed in on him.


End file.
